


the home pyre still burning

by nanrea



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Member Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I channeled a lot of my political anxiety into this I'm sorry, it's a war kids!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanrea/pseuds/nanrea
Summary: The reapers could never have invaded. The Council allied races could never have been torn apart by political strife. Palavan could never have fallen, the batarian hegemony could never have been destroyed, Earth could never have been occupied, Thessia--Thessia--Tevos faces the loss of Thessia.





	the home pyre still burning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RawLiverAndCigarettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RawLiverAndCigarettes/gifts).



> -or-
> 
> Two old politicians hide in their office and cry.

Tevos barely glanced up as she heard the doors to her office slide open. At this point, there were very few with the clearance to enter unannounced, and only three of them were on the Citadel at this time.

“Tevos,” the intruder said. “I’m, I’m sorry about Thessia.” A rare hesitation slipped into Valern’s voice, the swish of his robes falling still as he stood next to her at the window.

He reached one hand out and threaded his narrow fingers through hers. A rare gesture, remnant from their desperate tryst after surviving the geth incursion. Together, they stared down at the presidium commons. The damage from Cerberus’s attack had quickly faded, but if one knew where to look, one could still see traces. 

Tevos had served the council  for over two hundred years. She knew where to look.

“After this war is over, I’m going to retire,” the salarian councillor said after a moment. “I know this leaves the counsel to only you and Sparatus, should he ever pry himself away from Victis, until the humans find their replacement and the dalatrasses choose mine, but I would like to spend my remaining years with my people.”

Tevos tried to sigh, maybe, but what came out was a choked noise, a buried sob. She knew what Valern was trying to do: distract her with mundane politics, the ever churning slog of council  and interspecies relations. “Retire already?” she rasped out. “You just got appointed not even . . . “ 

How long ago Valern had been appointed escaped her. She had outlived so many salarian councillors.

“Five years ago,” he said gently. “I am almost forty, you know. I’d have probably retired soon anyway.”

Tevos looked aside, studying Valern closely. It was always jarring, how short lived salarians truly were. She was over seven hundred, herself, her age and wisdom as a matriarch which had lent her a bolstering confidence before the war now just making her feel old. Old in a way asari rarely were made to feel.

She didn’t know what to do, and it was a shattering experience. This war had taken Thessia, and she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how the humans could fight like they did, how the turians could rally as they had when Palavan was hit. She suddenly and keenly felt sympathy for the quarians, who so long ago had been her first major political incident when she first joined the council.

But even the quarians had at last managed to take back Rannoch.

“What do you think you’ll do, after the war?” Valern suddenly asked. Tevos startled, aware suddenly that her attention had drifted. He was facing her now, his unfathomable black eyes locked on hers. “Thessia will need rebuilding, and all things considered, it might be time for new blood in all the council seats.”

She paused at that phrasing. Valern was an astute politician above all else, and the salarians always knew more than they let on.

“This war has already changed everything else,” he added gently, disentangling their fingers.

She hummed. “Who do you think the humans will choose?” she asked instead. 

Valern tilted his head. “Difficult to say,” he said after a moment. “They’ve only been on the council for three years and have already gone through two councilors. And with Earth occupied and Arcturus destroyed, the majority of their politicians with galactic policy knowledge are unavailable.”

Tevos snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

“More sensitive than saying they’re all dead,” he replied, blinking. “I know none of us want to acknowledge this, but. This war changes everything. The balance of power will shift, should the crucible project be successful, and we have allowed it to be lead primarily by the humans. Even if Commander Shepard is acting under our authority, the credit will go to them.” He turned and paced away a few steps and back, the restless energy he always struggled to mask during council meetings finally surfacing. “The humans will gain much, in the case of victory, and their closest allies have been the turians, the krogan, the quarians, even the geth have proven better allies than the salarians and asari.”

She turned back to the window, unable to stand his pacing anymore.

He continued. “And if the crucible in unsuccessful, and we are forced to attempt victory through conventional warfare-” he stopped.

Both of them stared out the office window.

“We could never win a conventional war,” Tevos said. “We could ne--” 

A harsh sob finally worked its way out. 

This war had brought so many impossible things.

The reapers could never have invaded. The Council allied races could never have been torn apart by political strife. Palavan could never have fallen, the batarian hegemony could never have been destroyed, Earth could never have been occupied, Thessia--

Thessia--

Tevos felt the last of her iron composure leave her as tears and gasping, desperate sobs wrenched out of her. Thessia-- not even the attack on the Citadel three years ago had stolen so much from her, and it had stolen one of her daughters and so many of her friends and colleagues. 

Thessia had been her home, her birthplace. She had grown to maturity in one of its smaller cities, cut her teeth on local politics for a century before seeking out a place in the former asari councillor’s offices at the tender age of three hundred.

She had left three sisters on Thessia, her mother, her favorite aunt, even a krogan uncle who had lived with her aunt since before she was born.

Her youngest daughter and first grandchild.

Told them not to leave, that Thessia would be safe, she’d make sure of it.

Thessia was supposed to be safe, always safe. Her home.

She tried to stop crying as she felt Valern step closer, but instead found herself slipping unsteadily to her knees and huddling her face in her arms. She was distantly aware of his awkward muttering and gentle pats as he gently embraced her, and it only made her cry harder. She had only vague memories of her father, already old by the time she was twenty, but Valern’s comfort reminded her so much of that. That comfort, that small sliver of her lost home.

It took some moments before she could return the embrace, but eventually her tears wrung herself out.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his narrow shoulder.

His hands continued to rub light patterns into her back. “This war has cost all of us a great deal,” he whispered back. “Not many salarian worlds have been attacked yet, but.” His cheek brushed hers as he lowered his head to her own shoulder. “I have received word that the colony my sister founded has been destroyed.”

“Oh, Valern,” she sighed, tightening her arms around him. She couldn’t say anything else. He nodded in understanding anyway.

They stayed huddled in this meager comfort long after her tears had dried.


End file.
